We had been talking about them since the beginning of the trip, fearing them,

Not roads, byt canyons

waiting for them, imagining them but I think none of us really thought they could really be as bad as the reality showed us: DRC bad roads. We left Congo to enter DRC on the top of the most beautiful mountains seen so far in Africa. The air was light, the sun was shining , the vibes were good among the 11 people left in the group, none of us probably really expected to have such a rough time on such bad roads like the one we crossed.

Imagine driving a Bedford or be aat its back on such roads

From one border to another there is a very long drive before you arrive to the town where you can get the stamp on the passport. It took us around 3 days and in such bad conditions that sometime we were alls cared the truck would have flew down the mountains. “There was a moment we were literally driving on 3 wheels” that is what Thor told us at the end of the first day. The truck was dangerously bouncing on some canions, and in case of rain we would have probably been stacked there for days. None of us dared to talk in those days, as we were too concentrated to keep us stable in the truck. Anna Begga had the worse experience ever, as she got sick and she had to lay down to the benches for the entire time we were along those roads. It’s really impressive to think about it. One of the reason why a country doesn’t have the possibility to develop is certainly the transportation system. DRC has been left abandoned for such a long time that there is no way to go from one place to another, and if there is it is so bad that some villages are isolated probably for months.

Camping at the borders between the 2 Congo’s

We stopped on one of these villages on the mountains, and as it was early in the morning, we went down the truck to go to luck for some food, some bread at

Daily cooking next t the truck

east, but n the village there was literally nothing. I asked a woman if they had bread, and she said they don’t. We all went to a tiny shop, the only on of the village, to check what they had, and I can tell you there was almost nothing in that shop: few cans of sardines, who knows from what year, a plastic bag full of biscuits and some washing powder. It was difficult to imagine the life in that village. For sure the trucks that bring food don’t make it there and they have to count on some locals who sometime go to the bigger villages to get something else. It was tough indeed, and still in those faces, in their eyes, there was such a big dignity and as it always happens in Africa, they were ready to welcome us with a smile.. Before entering the village we had to stop not so far from it, on a hill, where there was the passport control, and we could here the people of the village talking. Their voices, the screams of the kids playing, the chit chatting of the women while washing cloths were echoing on the entire valley, giving to that place otherwise forgotten by the rest of the world, life.

The douane sign of DRC

In DRC we finally crossed the legendary Congo river.

Daily life on the COngo River

We arrived next to it early in the morning, as we knew the ferry was small and there may be a long queue. There was not queue actually, but the ferry didn’t go until 11, so we had to wait there for the rest of the morning. Gunnar went to speak to the local fishermen, giving them some of his tools, while we all hang around the truck, just next to the river, where, as usual, all th local kids came to check what we were doing.

The other side of COngo River

The Congo river around here means commerce, communication, life. Everyday people move from one side of the river to the other and keep the economy of this country alive. There are no bridges on this massive river, except for one, in Matadi,where we spent 3 days before heading to Angola.

Matadi is a huge town, that remembers a bit Bamenda, in Cameroun, but much bigger than that, spread on several hills, each of them filled with houses until the top.

One of the hills of Matadi

Arriving there meant getting absorbed by the chaos of the place, probably the last real African ton we met on this trip. We found back Andreas in Matadi, and it was good to get him back on the trip after a month, when he also had a lot of adventures between Benin and DRC.

The thousands kids of the Catholica school next to where we camped: a true nightmare

In Matadi we camped in a catholic mission, right next to the biggest school of the

Kids playing all day: our nightmare

town, hosting thousand children of all ages. Well, I can tell you it was a nightmare, or better it was acoustic pollution. Every morning, at 6.30 all these children arrived to school and spent the first hour singing loud. Then they had some hours of classes and lot of free time in the courtyard of the school, where they played or came to observe us. The kids of that school were between 2 years old and 18, and you can only imagine how noisy and messy that place was until4 when they finally left the school everyday. T was impossible to sleep. We were all awake early and we all left the place all day until the kids were gone. I managed to sleep longer though, thank to my earplugs, but around the middle of the morning even the earplugs were useless.

Matadi was the last place where there was no electricity at night. It was probably the last real African place, and it is a pity that it is forbidden to take photos around, because like this I just have to keep this place in my hart.

With Mama Solange: best chef in town

One of the first day there, with Sam we went to ea some rice to a local woman, and as her food was so good and there was the choice of 3 different sauces, luxury for us, we came back there often, and it happened that the woman there really liked me and everytime she was filling my plate the double compared to the others, because, according to her, I had to take some weight. Her name was Mama Solange, she was a great funny and smiling woman who welcomed us everyday like if we were all friends, and that, when we told her we wanted to go to see the Belvedere of the town, the highest point on a mountain, she called someone she knew and made sure he would bring us the re and back for a cheap price. The day we left, I promised her I would say goodbye from the truck, and incredibly she was there, that morning, to greet us.

The only bridge on the legendary Congo River

DRC is a very contradictory land, where the people suffer from years of govern corruptions and you can see it in the street, where you buy anything and everyone tries to take more money than the normal price. At the beginning we all thought it was one or two people who were doing it, but after 3 days it was clear to all of us that this was very common in that place, where not lots of whites were around. One night in a bar we got the bill for some beers we were drinking, and it looked a bit exaggerated. Jo went to check the price board that was hanging on the wall, and we discovered the waiter was charging us much more than what we had to pay. He went to tell him and the guy didn’t even say sorry, just came back with a new , correct, bill. There is no wonder if this country is one of the less developed of all Africa. Everyone, included the woman who was selling oranges in the street, tries to steal from you, so after a while you just don’t buy anything anymore. It was not really about the money,a s you can imagine, but it was tireding to constantly be in a place where they all think they are much better and intelligent than you. I was all happy when we left Matadi, as the atmosphere in town was not good anymore. From there we went to the border, where we entered Angola and a new adventure began.